There’s a second – simply seconds into getting dressed – after I assume I’d panic. The hem of my stretchy high has acquired rolled up spherical my ribs earlier than my head has popped out of the neck gap, and with my arms nonetheless caught within the sleeves, I can not attain spherical to drag it down. I wriggle helplessly for a minute, however the scenario doesn’t enhance; the band of rolled-up cloth is taut throughout my chest, immovable. That’s after I really feel the primary tingle of rising alarm – so acquainted from early childhood – that comes of being trapped in your garments.
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